The Fourth Age
by la reine lauren
Summary: This story was once posted and has been brought back to life: the last elven kingdom has fallen, and now the elves must fight or perish read the prologue, summaries are evil.
1. Prologue

The second year after the fall of Barad-dur marked the end of the Third Age. For a while, time seemed to stand still and peace came to all in Middle Earth.  
  
After the departure of the ring bearers from the Grey Havens, many of the remaining elves followed, sailing in large numbers into the West. The age of elves had ended, leaving no question as to who the succeeding power was.  
  
The call of the sea weighed heavily on all of the elves' hearts, yet a few remained in Middle Earth, living quietly in what was left of their once- mighty kingdoms.  
  
The peace lasted for no more a decade before war broke out between Men and Elves.  
  
Threatened by the elves' power, immortality, and continued presence, rogue groups of men gathered in troops to scour Middle Earth for any of the Undying remaining. They rode from the far West shores to the East, slaughtering any elf they came upon, sparing none.  
  
The splendor of Rivendell, already fading without the power or the elven ring Vilya, was ravaged and destroyed, its ornate columns and atriums crumbled and the Ford muddied. The golden elanor and pale nipheredil of Lothlorien were trampled without the ring Nenya to guard their roots; the tall and majestic mallorns were no more.  
  
Despite the widespread devastation, there is an elven kingdom that lies in North Eryn Lasgalen, thus far untouched by marauding forces. Its natural fortress remains with strong cavern walls, a dark, surrounding forest, and a rushing river as guard. Unlike the others, this settlement has never a ring of power to protect its borders and people and its might has dwindled little. Though many have left it for Valinor, it is still secure and is the last civilization of elves East of the sea.  
  
The men's insecurity grows still, as does their determination to wipe out the past and ready the Fourth Age for their dominance.  
  
The end of the elves is near. All hope now stands in a long hidden light, ancient and wise, the only light left in Middle Earth that can penetrate the darkness of the future.  
  
**Author's note** I started this story quite a while ago - I really knew my stuff, didn't I? Anyway, I want to get back into it. I have several chapters done, which I'll be revising and steadily reposting. Please give me suggestions. I'm a romance author, trying to do something more. I really want this story to have substance and the characters to be real. I want this romance to be believable and. needed? I don't know. Something that doesn't just happen, but is needed to make the story what it is. Anyway, thank you for reading! Lauren 


	2. The Light of Laurelin

The Light of Laurelin  
  
The light of the new morning shone faintly through the thickness of the dark trees, casting more shadows than it illuminated. Occasionally, a glimpse of pink or orange from the sunrise in the East could be seen through a break in the boughs, but otherwise, Laurelin was engulfed entirely by a heavy darkness that seemed almost hungry. The trees, the vines, and the very path she rode upon had all succumbed to the blackness, and the panic tickling Laurelin's spine told her she wasn't far from surrender herself.  
  
A bone deep weariness had descended upon her once she'd crossed over the Celduin River and entered the ominous forest of Greenwood the Great. She'd been riding hard for nearly a year now, resting little and in constant wariness of danger. It was this alertness that had saved her many times on the ride across the vastness of Rhûn, but the exhausting awareness would also be the end of her if she didn't reach the caverns of Thranduil soon.  
  
Yet she was so close, she could not give up now.  
  
"Elbereth, give me strength," she murmured, lifting the desperate prayer to the heavens, hoping the distant Valar would hear and heed her plead.  
  
Her strength held and she strained to listen for anything amiss, fighting a losing battle with the heavy air that would muffle any noise nearby. But faintly, over the sound of Ranadol's thundering hoof beats, another set could be heard, like staccato drums pounding in the distance.  
  
Laurelin quickly pulled her horse to a halt, listening intently.  
  
Yes, without a doubt, another horse was galloping through the forest from the North, loud and clear - and heading directly towards her. Hearing the sound in the quiet as well, Ranadol snorted a warning. Unfortunately, the signal meant for her instead warned the nearby rider; the approaching hoof beats slowed and ceased.  
  
"Ndinen," [Be silent] she whispered, pulling the black hood of her cloak over her head and steering the horse off the path. Pulling her sword from its sheath, Laurelin readied herself for whatever was to come.  
  
About 30 paces ahead of her was a slight clearing in the trees around the path, letting the first rays of the rising sun onto the path. This could lend her the advantage if she was able to spot the other rider while remaining hidden. Keeping herself back in the shadows, Laurelin let all her senses hone to their highest awareness and still heard nothing.  
  
Ranadol shifted slightly, disturbing the brush around them and Laurelin cursed inwardly. Her horse was normally very good at stealth and cover, but tonight he was as weary as she.  
  
The silence was eerie. Dawn had come and gone and still no song of birds could be heard, no rustle of squirrels and rabbits - or even giant spiders, as she'd heard rumor; only utter stillness.  
  
That is why when a twig cracked with a resonant 'thwap', Laurelin was off her horse and upon her attacker within a blink of the eye.  
  
And found herself face to face with the very sharp point of a loaded arrow, steady and ready to fly. The edge of her blade was at the archer's neck, mere hairs away from slicing the exposed flesh of his throat.  
  
Laurelin met an icy blue gaze and froze.  
  
Stalemate.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ooh. I wonder what happens next! By the way, if a beta reader reads this story and wants a job, e-mail me at lauren8415@hotmail.com. Thank you! Lauren 


	3. Two Concessions

"Identify yourself!" Legolas ordered the cloaked figure holding the sword at his throat. All he could see through the shadows cast by the swordsman's hood was twin green flames boring into his equally wary and determined gaze.  
  
"After you, sir," said the decidedly female voice, firm and confident.  
  
Legolas had thought his order had left no room for argument. If it had been one of the elves of his kingdom, they would have recognized him immediately and yielded. Apparently he hadn't been as commanding as he'd thought.  
  
They glared at each other with steady hands on their weapons, each in a position to kill the other easily - though most likely not without serious injury to themselves while doing so.  
  
Legolas sighed.  
  
"I will withdraw if you do as well, so we may settle this without fear of fatal injury from a mere flinch of the wrist," he said, holding his arrow steady despite the growing cramps in the muscles of his right hand.  
  
The green eyes studied him for a good while before they seemed to concede. The sword withdrew slowly, lowering only when Legolas's arrow did.  
  
The figure visibly deflated before him as a faint beam of sunlight shown across his face - as well as his ears. Only then did Legolas notice the glaze of weariness in the moss-colored eyes.  
  
"Are you a friend or foe of the elves?" he queried, much less threatened by the girl in front of him as her shoulders slumped in fatigue.  
  
Instead of answering, the girl pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing the fine bone structure and features common to elves and two pointed ears.  
  
Legolas almost took a step back as she revealed herself. A hazy glow seemed to emanate from her, casting a golden light into the darkness. It made her light hair shine like spun gold.  
  
"I am Laurelin Galadruin," she said wearily, moving to lean against her horse. "I am seeking the King of these woods, Greenwood the Great. I mean no one harm, and if you would please let me pass, I will be on my way."  
  
She was aptly named, Legolas thought. He had to give her that. Galadruin essentially meant 'one who shines bright' and Laurelin was the name of the golden tree of Valinor, the fruit of which had been set in the sky, the sun. It was oft times translated into 'Song of Gold'.  
  
"You need not go any further, Lady of Gold. I am the King you seek," he said, taking no joy in his lofty title, "though these woods have not been called Greenwood for many thousands of years. It was long called Mirkwood and was recently retitiled Eryn Lasgalen [the Wood of Greenleaves]."  
  
Laurelin's eyes widened and she quickly straightened at his admission of title.  
  
"Oh, Lord Thranduil, please forgive me for drawing my sword. I did not know," she bowed quickly and when she raised, she kept her head low.  
  
Legolas was now even more curious as to where this fair-haired elf was from. His father, Thranduil, the former King of Mirkwood had been killed early in the upheaval of men, over ten years ago. The men rejoiced as the elves mourned, but either way, it was news past and well known to almost all who inhabited Middle Earth. Where was this elf from that she did not know of the passing of the last great elven King and called Mirkwood by its ancient name?  
  
Laurelin seemed to take his scrutiny as consideration of her fault and raised her eyes to meet his again.  
  
"Once again, my Lord, I ask for pardon. But whether you grant it or not, I must speak with you."  
  
Curiosity peaked Legolas's interest, but the need for his own haste was stronger.  
  
"Forgive my tongue," he said, catching himself after a long silence, "For I find you at no fault, but self preservation, of which I am guilty as well. If you must speak with me, ride beside me, Lady, for I am at a great press for time."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Legolas turned to retrieve his horse, expecting her to mount her own and follow. But again, his authority was questioned, and it made him wonder at how used he'd become to being obeyed. Though frustrating, her insubordination wasn't entirely unpleasant. And it wasn't as though she was an elf under his rule. She was from a different kingdom entirely, though what it was, he hadn't the slightest idea.  
  
"Lord Thranduil, I beg of you time to rest," she said, stopping him in his tracks. Ah, he hadn't corrected her mistake of names. It did not really matter, at least for the moment. She'd come seeking the King of Mirkwood, and the King of Mirkwood she would get. Names were merely a pleasantry. But if she was to come with him, taking a break was the last thing he would grant her. Time was of the utmost importance.  
  
He turned back to her, keeping his face expressionless as his father had whenever pulling rank.  
  
"If you wish to speak with me, you will ride now, for I have little time to spare." He knew he was being rude, but he just couldn't find the common courtesy she would otherwise be shown had he not had such a feeling of haste and pressure. He waited for her compliance, but was not altogether surprised when she had more to say.  
  
"Forgive me, but I have ridden several thousands of miles to find you, and I am not sure that I have the strength to go much further. I have been able to rest my mind while riding, apart from fear and worry, but my body has been deprived of the recuperation it needs after such a journey. I fear what might happen if I don't obey its need for rest. What is more, I'm not sure my horse can go much farther."  
  
Legolas felt a thread of sympathy, but an even larger string of resentment at her trying to slow him down. After all, who wanted to speak with who? Though, admittedly, he did want to see what she had traveled so far to discuss.  
  
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he decided on a compromise.  
  
"Ride with me 50 miles. When we reach the Mountains of Eryn Lasgalen, I will stop and rest with you until nightfall when we will continue. It is not safe to camp in these forests, anyway."  
  
Laurelin sighed, knowing the 50 miles would feel like much more once atop her horse. But she could tell that she'd pushed the King to his limit of tolerance and had no choice but to comply.  
  
In acquiescence, she climbed upon Ranadol, pulling herself up straight to face Thranduil.  
  
He nodded and turned to fetch his own horse.  
  
"Nthalion, Ranadol [Be strong]," she soothed as she urged the horse (as well as herself) forward, back onto the path. "We will rest soon enough."  
  
The King was waiting for her in the clearing when she approached, sitting tall and regal upon the back of a cinnamon-colored mare.  
  
"We go South. If your horse is well trained and you are able, you may rest and I will lead you," he said, feeling his sympathy grow at her look of dread on mention of the short trek.  
  
The glowing skin had grown paler and her skin hung slack from her cheekbones. He could tell by the way she sat and the way the horse heeded her without command that she was an experienced rider. But exhaustion was taking its toll on her as she nodded slightly in thanks, lining her horse with his and promptly falling into a deep, unwary sleep, her eyes glazed and staring straight ahead; trusting her life to his guidance.  
  
Legolas sighed. He would have to go a lot slower than he'd originally intended. He was letting her join him in hopes that, when well rested, she would be able to match his pace. And he wouldn't mind the company. But either way, what she had to say better be good.  
  
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(in response to a review:) Just so people know, I am NOT a mary sue writer. maybe when I'm doing therapy writing or something random, but I WOULD NOT PUT IT ONLINE. what so far has made this a mary sue fiction? laurelin = lauren, yea, I can see that. but the thing is, I wanted my character to have certain characteristics that go with the name laurelin (primarily with the golden tree of valinor)- if you've read the silmarillion, you'll know a bit about it. I don't have green eyes or blonde hair (blue and brown, thank you very much.)  
  
I'm working on hard on my character development, and if anyone else feels laurelin is becoming a mary sue-type character, let me know, because I'll have a lot of work to do.  
  
if anyone needs a beta or wants to beta read this story, that'd be great!  
  
thanks! lauren 


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